


Certain Knowing Circles

by KrisEleven



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce, Tricksters - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Forum: Goldenlake, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisEleven/pseuds/KrisEleven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taybur Sibigat had always been known as a loyal man and an implacable enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certain Knowing Circles

**Author's Note:**

> The italicized bits are from _A Good Man Goes to War_ , from Doctor Who, written by Steven Moffat.

_Demons run_  
 _When a good man goes to war._  
 _Night will fall and drown the sun_  
 _When a good man goes to war_

 

The wave broke over his head and all Taybur could do was close his eyes and hold his breath, hoping against hope that he could stay afloat just a small while longer. It had been... he didn’t know how long it had been, but the storm had yet to abate. He shifted his precious burden to the other arm, the muscles already screaming as he used the opposite to tread water. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. It would be easier – so much easier –

No. Never. He... he couldn’t leave him out here _alone_. The rain fell so torrentially that even when the ocean wasn’t crashing, stinging, choking, into his face, he could still barely catch breath. His legs didn’t even hurt with the exertion, not anymore; they were barely more than dead weight and only because he hadn’t yet sunk beneath the waves did he know that he was still capable of kicking them.Shifting the weight between arms barely gave him relief anymore. But he wouldn’t let him go.

He had already failed. He would not. He could not. He wouldn’t _let go_.

He supposed it wouldn’t be bad to give in and sink into Wave-Walker’s embrace, but someone had done this. It was the last thing he heard before the ship had broken apart and he and Dunevon were thrown into the water; the storm was not natural.

Someone had killed his king. Taybur had sworn to protect him. It was unpardonable. The fact that they, surely, had wanted him to perish as well was acknowledged and dismissed, unimportant; he knew that, in certain knowing circles he was considered an implacable enemy. It had mattered very little; very few things could so stir his animosity. But he had sworn.

The weight of his sovereign had never felt more like a child as it did now, and Taybur did not let go.

He would find out who did this. And if it was Imajane and her Jimajen husband...

The gods would turn their faces from them. He, for one, was grateful for the surety of the belief he felt at the thought; though he was sure the gods would understand what he would have to do, he would not want them to see as he ripped them from their thrones and threw them to the wolves ever circling the gate.

Taybur choked on sea water and rain and tears and held the body of his king and kept himself afloat

 

_Demons run_

 

He took a deep breath, the air entering his lungs freely and without obstruction feeling like a betrayal. He set the thought aside. Taybur had no time for weakness now.

His reputation was that of a loyal man: a servant of the crown, one that could not be tempted away by coin or threat. It had been one of the reasons Topabaw had mistrusted him so thoroughly: loyalty was one thing the spymaster could not understand.

Thinking of the spymaster made him think of the note he had just sent, or, rather, the recipient. Aly Homewood, the Balitang’s... spy? Servant? Guard? He was still not sure, but somehow he knew he was right in looking to her as he turned his gaze from the Rittevon thrones. There was something stirring throughout the Copper Isles, something –he realized, looking back – that had been slowly waking for a long time. The beginning tremors had been small, easy to ignore but now the size of the beast was becoming known as its waking thrashes finally began in earnest. The country was a volcano hovering at the edge of eruption and some part of him mourned the destruction to come, because you couldn’t control fire of the likes going to be unleashed.You could make firebreaks and you could run from its path, but the destruction was going to be so far-flung and so all-consuming that nothing would be left unscarred, not really.

He should be making a firebreak. Instead, he was throwing fuel in and waiting for the flames.

Because he had been loyal. It had dominated his life, his every thought. He would have gladly made any sacrifice asked of him in order to serve his king.

But they had killed his king.

There were those in certain, knowing circles who considered him an implacable enemy.

He would make Imajane and Rubinyan regret making him theirs.

 

_But count the cost:_

 

The fire raged through the capital and across the Isles.

Taybur stood aside and allowed the enemy to walk, victorious, through the gates of the Grey Palace.

There were those who called him a traitor, though never when any loyal to the Queen could see their faces.

There were those who saw him as an opportunist. He received more offers from the spymasters of the Eastern nations in the month following the rebellion than he had in all his years rising to a position of power within the Rittevon court.

He accepted none of them, of course.

His reputation of being a loyal man was tarnished and broken to everyone but those who knew the truth. Imajane and Rubinyon had made a terrible error. They should not have relied on the storm. They should have stuck a knife in his ribs before the ship was sunk.

Taybur knew Aly hoped that he would find something in this new Queen, this wise child, to be loyal to. Anyone with eyes to see understood his loyalty had never belonged to the crown or throne. And Aly, clever Aly, could see right to the depths of him.

He wasn’t sure, yet, but he thought he may serve the queen who had deposed the king-killers as long as she would have him. Dunevon had been such an awful lot to sacrifice for this bright hope of a future.

 

 _The battle’s won but the child is lost_.


End file.
